


it's far better to learn

by slutorama



Series: a world without shrimp [5]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: <3, F/F, enjoy this uneditedish Thing, i was half asleep when i wrote this and if i reread it now i wont post it so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 07:26:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13829340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slutorama/pseuds/slutorama
Summary: faith has a bad night slayin' it up, but coming home to tara helps





	it's far better to learn

Tara’s sipping tea on the couch when Faith stumbles in the front door. She’s sopping wet and definitely not crying, with her hands palm-up in front of her, covered in something red and sticky. There’s a jarring bang when the door shuts behind her, and Tara startles to attention.

She wastes no time ditching her tea on the coffee table and meeting Faith in the doorway. Her face is soft, save for her cocked and questioning eyebrow, and, Faith notices with a frown, tired. Like she hadn’t caught a wink of sleep since Faith left the apartment hours ago to go patrolling.

“Are you alright?” Tara asks, worry etched into her forehead.

Faith nods. The instinct to act cool and collected still far more powerful than the knowledge that she doesn’t need to do that anymore, least of all around Tara. Faith lowers her bloodied hands to her sides and shrugs, feeling guilty.

“I don’t think it’s human,” Faith says, her voice rough, “If, uh, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I’m not.” Tara almost sounds sincere, like she believes Faith, and that urge to definitely not cry is back, full force, and Faith sniffles it away.

“It came at me, y’know? I turned around and it just… it was _there_ , man.” Faith’s voice cracks. She hates it, and anger builds in her chest. It betrays everything: that haunting feeling in her gut, the fear of what still existed inside her.

_Killer_.

A stint in jail and some council-paid therapy didn’t erase that from her story. Smudged it a bit, maybe, but it’d outlast anything Faith ever threw at it. One day, it’d be all that anyone remembered, and there’s not much she can do to change it.

Faith gulps, hard, then adds, “The hell kind’a demon bleeds red, anyway?”

“We can look it up on the database later if you’re up for it,” Tara says, a thin, crooked smile lights up her face like a Christmas tree. She’s calm. She doesn’t sound smug, like Faith expects, and she’s not scared. Tara’s… normal. Like they’re talking about what they’re gonna have for breakfast tomorrow, not trying to snuff out Faith’s concerns that she’d killed. _Again_.

“I dunno. Giles probably hasn’t got all the books uploaded yet. And I’m not goin’ to some library.”

“Jenny’s helping him,” Tara urges, but Faith rolls her eyes at that.

“Uh-huh. Poor Jenny.”

Tara’s smile turns sad, and she reaches out to take one of Faith’s hands in her own “We should probably get you cleaned up.”

“Oh, yeah, I’d hate to lose the deposit on this place because I got blood all over the carpet right after we moved in.”

“Faith.”

“Okay, okay, I know. I’ll wash up or whatever.” Faith starts to push Tara out of the way, but a thought strikes her, and suddenly she can’t move. “You can’t tell Buffy or Giles or… or anyone. I know what they’ll think.”

“They won’t,” Tara tries, but Faith shakes her head, ready to object, so Tara sighs her compliance, “Fine. I won’t. Promise.”

“Cool,” Faith chirps, “So, uh, I’ll shower, then?”

Tara’s studying her face, and, with thinly veiled concern, says, “A-actually I’ll, um, I’ll help you get the demon blood off in the sink first. Just in case it, uh, stains. Okay?”

“Whatever you want, T.”

Tara leads Faith into the bathroom. Her feet drag and her mind’s still fuzzy in a weird out-of-body kind of way that hadn’t stopped since she’d stabbed the guy, no, demon, half an hour earlier.

The second they reach the door, Tara darts ahead a few steps, slipping inside to open the medicine cabinet. Faith doesn’t have a chance to see her reflection before the mirror is facing the tiled wall, and it’s then that Faith feels the dried blood on her face, splattered from her cheeks to her forehead.

For once, she’s grateful for Tara’s thoughtfulness. Like, yeah, okay, it’s annoying that Tara tries to protect her from it, like Faith’s a little kid and she can’t handle a little more blood in her life, but Faith would rather not find out if tonight's bloody slaying is the one that pushes her over the edge (again).

“You gonna make me some tea when we’re done?” Faith asks.

Tara smiles as she turns the faucet to get the water flowing. “If that’s what you want.”

“Yeah. I want.”

“Okay.”

Tara takes one of Faith’s arms and slips it under the running water, and she immediately turns her head to look at Tara to distract herself from blood swirling down the drain. Tara’s eyes are soft, and she gives Faith a crooked smile when she notices Faith staring at her.

“Uh, none of that Giles-y smelly stuff, though, okay?” Faith says after Tara looks away, shutting her eyes tight for a second to try and stop the badness swirling in her head. “Y’know, it’s gotta be sweet. Fit for a slayer.”

“I might as well make you hot chocolate, then.”

“Adult slayer,” Faith adds with a groan.

Tara switches arms, and begins scrubbing at Faith’s other one, focusing most of her energy on Faith’s hand and fingernails. “Right, because you’ve outgrown hot chocolate. That’s only for baby slayers.”

“Yeah.”

“Does that mean I can’t have it either?”

“Nah, rules are different for witches since they don’t have an expiration date.”

“Neither do you,” Tara says, adamant. She lets the warm water run freely over both of Faith’s arms. “The rules have changed for slayers, y’know. Now that there are, like, a billion of you.”

“It’s still up to B and me to take down the big baddies,” Faith argues, “S’not like those kids are ready to face down a master vamp yet.”

“Still,” Tara says, and her voice firm as she tugs Faith’s hands out of the way of the water and wraps them in a towel on her lap, “You’re not alone.”

“Tonight I was alone,” Faith grumbles, averting her gaze to the bathroom floor that they really needed to use the Swiffer on sometime soon.

Faith feels a wet washcloth on her face, then hears a long sigh from Tara. “And who’s fault is that? I offered to come with you. I always do.”

“Mmhm,” Faith mumbles, rolling her eyes to keep herself from looking at Tara.

_“Keep her safe. I can’t lose her again.”_

Buffy’s words, said through gritted teeth the night they’d left Tara in Faith’s care before she and Willow left for South America, primed and ready to fight some mega demon out for Tara’s undead blood.

Tara’d been a mess back then. Half-crazy from being brought back, only speaking in short sentences, and rarely leaving Faith’s bed to do much more than eat and go to the bathroom. Faith didn’t get it. Why did Buffy care so much about this girl? Maybe back in the day, before the bullet took her out, she was someone, but there was nothing but a shell left. It drove her mad sometimes, looking after this quiet mouse of a girl, the one that had Buffy’s heart in a way Faith never would.

The weeks turned into months, then years, and now, Faith couldn’t stand the thought of someone taking Tara away. They’d stood side-by-side for years, taking every hit life gave them in stride, first as friends, then as lovers, and the idea of a world that didn’t include Tara Maclay wasn’t Faith’s cup of tea.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Tara says, breaking Faith’s train of thought, and forcing her to meet her eyes, “I have magic.”

Faith frowns, almost angry that Tara _knows_.

“It’s not that I don’t think you can take care of yourself,” Faith says, “It’s just… I dunno, what if I can’t, I guess? Like, say some big bad jumps out at us, what if I can’t… uh, y’know, protect you.”

Tara shrugs. “I guess I die again. It’s not so bad, you know. Being all floaty was kind of nice.”

“Uh, what about me?”

“You get to tell Buffy you let me get killed, then she kills you, and we’re together forever.”

Faith can’t help but laugh at that, even though it’s pretty much her worst fears realized. “God, I hate you.”

“Mmhm, sure.”

The water shuts off, and Faith feels soft fingers gliding through her hair. Tara reaches up and shuts the medicine cabinet, and the pink and clean girl staring back at Faith looks… normal. A little red from Tara’s furious cleansing, but otherwise unharmed and untouched by badness.

“All done,” Tara says, placing a light kiss on Faith’s forehead, “Still want that tea?”

“You betcha.”

“Good,” Tara says, a little too fast, and she leaves the bathroom in a hurry, with Faith following at her heels, “Then we can sit down and have a heart to heart and talk about our feelings before you go to sleep and have nightmares and destroy our bed again.”

Faith scoffs. “Uh, what?”

“Kidding,” Tara says as they enter the kitchen, then adds with a sly grin, “Mostly.”

“I’m good,” Faith grumbles, “ _Really_. I feel fine now, T.”

Tara fills the kettle with water and sets it on the stove, then turns to look at Faith with eyes that cut right through her. “I know that what happened tonight is bothering you, sweetie. And that’s okay. Even slayers get a little weepy sometimes.”

“The blood’s gone now, I know it was a demon, so what’s left to talk about?” Faith’s feeling angry, and her hand curls into a fist. 

“Yes, but you don’t _believe_ that.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t mean to get psychobabbley on you, because I know you hate that, but you’re… you’re struggling with this. I can feel it. And I… I don’t want you to feel like you did something wrong, or like you’re bad, just because you were defending yourself.”

“I _thought_ I was defending myself from Finch,” Faith says, her voice hollow, “How do I know it wasn’t the same thing? A stupid human guy that got dragged into something he didn’t wanna be part of? Happens _all_ the time.”

Tara’s quiet for a moment. “The demon looked human?” 

Faith nods, silent, then darts her gaze to the kettle, waiting for the steam and the screech to take Tara’s mind off this stupid bullshit.

“Where’d you leave it?”

“Dumped it.” Faith shrugs. “Don’t want Oakland figurin’ out they got a murderer on the loose just yet.”

“You’re not a murderer.”

It slices through Faith the wrong way, cutting to her very core. “ _Yes_ , I _am_!” She turns from Tara and throws a punch at the wall, her fist going through it and into the next room with relative ease. Faith retracts it and winds back for another swing, but she feels soft hands wrapping around her bicep, and relaxes, too scared of hurting Tara to lose control again.

“You may have killed, Faith, but you’re _not_ a killer.”

Faith turns to meet Tara’s eyes. They’re glistening, like she’s gonna cry, but still steely blue. Strong. Unfaltering. “But… I _am_. I’ll always be.”

“You _were_ . A long time ago.” Tara rubs her thumb along Faith’s skin. “I wasn’t around for that side of you, so maybe I don’t fully understand where you’re coming from, but I know the you that I met when I was brought back. You’re not a bad person, Faith. You’re not who you were. I know that. I _believe_ that.”

Faith feels the heat behind her eyes and the scratchiness in her throat. She swallows hard and, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, says, “Yeah. Uh, okay.”

The kettle squeals, and Tara relinquishes her hold on Faith. She pulls the kettle off the burner and prepares a mug for both of them. Faith’s grateful for the break in tension, and heads off to the couch to sit down and wait for Tara, finding a fleece blanket hanging off the side just waiting to be snatched up. Faith crosses her legs on the couch and pulls the blanket up to her face, breathing in the smell of lavender that was so unmistakably _Tara_.

“Here.”

Faith feels the couch shift, and notices that the spot beside her has been taken. She takes the mug from Tara’s outstretched hand and nods her thanks. Tara smiles in return.

“Do you believe me?” Tara asks, taking a small sip from her mug.

Faith frowns. “About what?”

“You, um, n-not being a killer.”

Faith thinks on it for a minute, then shrugs and takes a solemn sip from her own tea.

“That’s okay.” Tara’s face betrays sadness, but there’s understanding there too, and she gives Faith a light nudge. “We have time. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

“Why do people always say that?” Faith asks suddenly, almost sounding angry. “What does it even mean.”

Tara giggles, and Faith feels her heart lift, just a hair. “I… don’t know. Maybe there’s a documentary on Netflix we can watch.”

“Find it. I’m not tryin’ to sleep tonight.”

“Still feeling kind of bad?”

Faith drops the blanket from her chest to lean forward and grab the remote, “Mostly feelin’ like we can’t afford another bed.”

Tara smiles, and places another kiss on Faith’s forehead. “Okay.”

Faith opens the Netflix app, then frowns. “Wait. Is Unsolved Mysteries on Netflix or Hulu?”

"Hulu," Tara grabs the remote in a huff and rolls her eyes, "And _you're_ supposed to be the conspiracy theory junkie. God." 


End file.
